


end this destiny

by starstreaked



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, i really don't know how to describe this i just wanted to write it, i think??? i mean probably, pre-game, technically an AU???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 03:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20419511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstreaked/pseuds/starstreaked
Summary: Destiny is not something decided for you. It is made.(or, with a touch less melodrama: The Champions take a trip to Link's village, where Zelda and Link discover that being Goddess-chosen destroyers of evil does not keep them from being sappy teenagers.)





	end this destiny

**Author's Note:**

> i don't have much to say except that i honestly don't know how to describe this. i also don't think it's very??? clear?? idk. here it is anyway and i hope you enjoy :D

Trees dotted the gold-dipped horizon, zigzagging along the skyline and dappling the ground in spotty orange light. Zelda hadn’t been to a village in over seven years, and now it was more magnificent, more lived-in and soothing than she could ever conjure up in her head. 

It was Link’s village, which somehow made it twice as fascinating. Though they’d mostly recovered from the shaky start of their friendship, Zelda knew less about him than anyone else. Or at least that was what it felt like. Perhaps she was too fixated on his secrets.

“It’s beautiful,” breathed Mipha, and cast Link a look of such fondness, such soft familiarity, that something deep and hidden inside Zelda knotted up with resentment. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen your village.” She knocked his leg playfully with her own from her horse. “You’ve been to mine more times than I can count.”

He smiled, but he seemed absent, far away in his own memories. Looking at him now, bathed in the sparkly evening sun, dark blond hair glinting like a beacon and blue eyes brighter than ever, Zelda’s heart squeezed painfully. She glanced away quickly, scolding herself. Yes, definitely too fixated. It was something she could not afford.

“Well,” said Daruk, tugging on his steed. “Let’s get down there before dark, shall we?”

His words kicked them each into motion, and they galloped their way down the path to Mabe Village, drawing to a slow halt at the entrance.

They hopped off their horses, following Link into the midst. 

“Link!”

Zelda turned, surprised to find a little boy, no more than ten, sprinting towards Link, a wide grin pasted on his chubby face. 

“We thought you were never coming back!” said the boy, clinging to Link’s legs. He lept back. “It’s been forever!”

Link laughed, crouching down to the boy’s eye-level. “Good to see you too, Koren. I promised you I’d return, didn’t I?”

Koren shrugged, looking guilty. “Well, things have changed a bit.” He cast a tentative glance behind Link, zeroing in on Zelda. He squeaked. “It’s  _ her _ ! She’s—you brought the princess.” 

Link looked over his shoulder at her, that smile still curling his mouth. “I did,” he said, and watched Zelda for a few long heartbeats.

“She’s  _ pretty _ ,” whispered Koren, and he looked terrified.

Zelda smiled at him, trying her best to look unintimidating.

Link laughed, rising to his feet. “Very pretty,” he said, amused. Zelda’s heart skipped a few traitorous beats.

“Oh, you did  _ not _ ,” said a female voice, and Zelda and the Champions turned to find a short woman, hands on her hips and red hair floating around her in a frizzy blaze. “Without so much as a letter? I definitely raised you better than that.”

Link’s grin grew so wide Zelda feared it would split his face. “Mother,” he said, in a soft, unguarded voice heard rarely from him.

“Don’t you  _ mother _ me, Link,” said the woman sharply. Then her stern face broke into a relieved smile, as if the angry facade was too much to hold up. “Oh, who am I kidding.” She rushed up to him, taking him into her arms. “You don’t visit enough.” She squeezed him and drew back.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ve missed you.”

She shook her head, half a smile lingering on her face. “Don’t waste words apologizing, dear. Introduce me to your friends.”

Link straightened, stepping out of her line of vision to present Zelda and the others. “Mother, these are the Hyrule Champions. Revali of Rito, Urbosa of Gerudo, Mipha of Zora, and Daruk of Goron.”

“So honored to meet you all,” said Link’s mother, dipping her head. “I am Marna, Link’s mother.” She smiled, and then seemed to catch sight of Zelda. She cocked her head. “Who might you be?”

Zelda swallowed, smiling her best princessly smile. “I am Princess Zelda of Hyrule, miss. It is a pleasure to be here in your town. It’s simply beautiful.”

Marna’s eyes widened. She bowed her head low and slowly rose. “Your Highness,” she said. “Your kindness and intelligence are known all across the land.”

“Thank you,” said Zelda softly.

“Link!” 

A girl darted across the path, grinning wide. Her pretty face shone with the twilit town, illuminating her dark hair and eyes. “You’ve really brought the whole crew with you this time, haven’t you?” she asked, laughing merrily.

“I could have brought more,” said Link.

The girl laughed again, pulling him into a hug. “Your mother’s right,” she said, holding him at arm’s length. “You’re always away too long. We miss you here.”

“No matter how far I go, I think I will always miss Mabe.”

She released him, turning to examine Zelda and the Champions. “The stuff of legends,” she said, as if in awe. She curtsied low. “I am Isla of Mabe.”

The Champions murmured mutual greetings. Zelda held her smile in place, but her diplomacy had left her, as well as her voice.  _ You’re pathetic _ , she told herself.  _ She’s perfectly nice. You have no reason to resent her.  _

Isla focused on Zelda and her friendly smile grew. “Princess,” she said, dipping her head. “Your bravery is felt all across Hyrule.”

That unwelcome resentment lessened. Zelda blinked. “I cannot thank you enough for saying so,” said Zelda. “It is the many strong hearts of this kingdom that truly keep me on my feet.”

“You’ll make a wonderful queen,” said Isla. “No age-old evil will stand a chance, not against you and Link.”

Zelda’s throat tightened. Tensions were high and taut in Hyrule Castle—in Zelda’s own mind. No goddess seemed eager to stay true to the promise they’d bestowed upon their kingdom sixteen years prior. “I’m lucky to have Link by my side,” she said, because she was. “His skill with that sword is unparalleled, and his courage and kindness are stronger still.”

Isla’s face grew wistful. “Yes, I’m certain he left for the castle for a reason. I mean no offense, Your Highness, but I do hope that after all this is over, he will be able to come home to us at last.” She looked away from Zelda, towards Link, who was chatting amicably with his mother and a few more villagers. Zelda recognized that look in her eyes, that drifty longing. How many girls had looked at him like that, with such helpless love? Not that she blamed them. He was charming and handsome and funny and kind. What more could a girl want?

But Zelda didn’t want to be one of them. She was going to be a queen. Queens didn’t have time to pine for the unattainable.

“Of course,” said Zelda finally, drawing Isla’s eyes away from Link. “When all of this is done, Link will deserve a break more than any of us. He will be free to do whatever his heart desires.”

Isla smiled, dreamy and content, as if she was happy to wait. As if there was not a doubt in her mind that what Link’s heart desired was her. Zelda wished for her certainty. “And you will be welcome to visit whenever you wish to,” Isla said kindly.

Zelda mustered a smile, but she felt worn, suddenly. “Thank you.”

“Princess,” said Marna, breaking the two girls out of their conversation. “You may sleep in the guest bedroom at our home, if it suits you.”

“It more than suits me,” said Zelda, bending into a half-curtsy. “Thank you for your kindness and hospitality.”

“Anytime, princess,” said Link’s mother, giving her a gentle smile.

“I can show you where it is,” said Isla. “It’s right beside my bedroom.” She held out her hand for Zelda to take, and with a half-glance back at the others, Zelda took it and followed. 

“I didn’t used to live here,” said Isla conversationally as they made their way to one of the cottages lining the road. “My parents died a few years back, when those monsters started popping up everywhere.” She glanced back at Zelda

The flash of anger in Zelda’s gut surprised her. Ganon had not yet manifested in Hyrule and already his influence was taking lives, destroying families. “I’m sorry,” Zelda said, and she meant it. “I know how horrible it is to lose a parent. I could never imagine losing both.”

Isla smiled over her shoulder, shrugging. “I try not to think about it much anymore. I believe lingering on the past is no way to change the future.”

_ My past is all I have _ , Zelda wanted to say, mind lingering on distant images of her mother’s weary smile minutes before all expression melted from her face—gone— _ taken _ —forever, on memories of her father when he still cared for the daughter rather than the destiny. But—

That wasn’t right. She had Urbosa. She had Mipha, and Daruk, and Revali—Purah and Impa and Robbie, and even all her research and all she hadn’t seen—hadn’t done. She had a kingdom to love—a kingdom to save.  _ People _ to save. 

So she said, “I think that is very wise.”

Isla laughed. “Thank you, Your Highness. I admit, wisdom is not my strong suit.” They reached the entrance to the house, and she cast a curious look back at Zelda. “Though it  _ is _ yours, is it not?”

Zelda blew out a laugh through her nose. “I suppose so, if you rely solely on the prophetic words. I assure you, I am not always at my best, wisdom-wise.”

“No one is always at their best,” said Isla, swinging the door open with a wink and gesturing gallantly for Zelda to enter. “If you were, it wouldn’t be your best.”

Zelda entered, surprised to find herself laughing. “I can see why Link likes you,” she said, almost by accident.

Isla’s eyes brightened with joy, and really, how could Zelda ever compare to her—to this smart, beautiful, free-spirited girl Link had grown up with? Zelda wished the aching in her chest would stop. 

“To be fair, Link is not exactly choosy with his people,” said Isla, guiding Zelda down a short hallway and to the door at the end. “Some of those knightly friends of his are truly ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous, indeed,” said Zelda, distracted by the cozy little room and its flowery curtains and bedspread. 

Isla studied her. “Forgive me for saying so, princess,” she said with a guilty smile. “But you seem to be very on guard. I promise I do not expect you to maintain perfect poise your entire stay.” 

“Oh,” said Zelda, taken off-guard. “I—I suppose it’s a habit.” 

Isla threw open the curtains grandly. “Then we shall vow to break this habit!” she exclaimed, pulling the window up. Summer air danced through the room, warming Zelda’s skin. Twilight was reaching its end, and the only color in the sky was a faint impression of orange where the sun had drifted beneath the horizon. Stars twinkled down, glassy pinpricks in the dusk. 

Beyond this perfect sky, this calm night, Calamity Ganon lurked, hidden in some dark depth that even Hylia’s majesty could not hope to reach. If she was honest, and she wouldn’t be, the true reason for her stiffness lay in the threat of some ambush—some desolating attack no one—especially not Zelda—would be ready for. She could not stand to be responsible for the loss of any more innocent lives.

“Thank you, Isla,” she said quietly, staring out at the gleaming abyss. She had a feeling sleep would not come easy to her tonight, if at all, despite the welcoming nature of the room. 

Isla halted her grandeur to give Zelda a baffled smile. “You’re certainly welcome, though I am not sure what you’re thanking me for.”

“Your kindness,” said Zelda, then, “And your casual demeanor.”

“My undignified behavior is beyond help,” said Isla with a wink. “Or at least, that’s what my mother used to say.”

Zelda was glad Link had found someone like Isla to go home to. He deserved a life of relaxation and joy after so much terror and unrest. He definitely didn’t need all the pressures of court life, of royal life, of  _ king  _ life—

She clenched a fist in the fabric of her pants.  _ I am such a fool _ , she thought, looking out the open window again. The villagers had begun to disperse, but there stood the Champions, exhilarated and free to release themselves from the stresses of daily life, if only for one night. Zelda wanted so badly to do the same, but she couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not even for a moment.

“Princess?” inquired Isla, words as soft as the breeze. Zelda shifted her gaze to her, both warmed and guilty at the concern on Isla’s face. “You must have a lot to think about, huh?”

Zelda managed a half-hearted smile. “The job of a princess is never done,” she said, with a lightness she didn’t feel.

“You deserve a break too,” said Isla. “As much as Link and any of the other Champions. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s kind of you to say so,” said Zelda. She was so tired, but no physically. Her thoughts felt disconnected from one another, dragged through the stiff dirt Ganon had placed at the back of her mind, but her body stayed sharp and alert, unable to reward her mind with the rest it certainly deserved. 

Isla smiled at her sadly, like she knew Zelda didn’t believe her. “Sleep well, princess. No harm will come to you or your friends here.”

_ I will make sure of it _ . 

Zelda tried to force the turmoil from her mind, if only for an hour or so, and sat by the window, content to let the gentle night wind push and pull at her loose hair. Soon, any remains of sunlight were sucked beneath the cusp of the skyline and the only light remaining glowed from a sliver of moon and a fierce dotting of stars.

“Princess.”

Zelda jumped. Standing at the other end of the window was Link, hair mussed by the wind and face glinting with starlight. She jerked backwards, nearly knocking herself onto the wooden floor below.

She shot a glare at him. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “Aren’t you supposed to be in here now?”

His face remained as frustratingly calm as always. “Can’t sleep,” he said. “And I know you can’t either, because you never stay up past ten.”

He was right, which was ridiculous as well as annoying. “Don’t be presumptuous. I may just be mixing up my sleeping schedule.” She tilted her chin up. “A little change is necessary every now and then.”

Link leveled her with a flat look, which was far more expression than she was used to. “Zelda,” he said, and the sound of her name on his tongue so casually sent an uninvited thrill racing down her spine. “Would you like to see the flower field in my village?”

“Flower field?” repeated Zelda before she could stop herself.

Something akin to amusement danced in Link’s eyes. “It’s right past the houses.” His mouth curled into a little smile. “And it looks especially beautiful in the moonlight.”

She looked at him for a long moment, angry at herself for being so predictable, but she didn’t really want to refuse. “Let me get my journal,” she said. “Oh! And the Sheikah Slate.”

She collected her things quickly, then went back to the window. “Hold this, please,” she said, holding out her journal and the Slate. He did so willingly, and the gentle hand he placed on her waist as she climbed out sent warmth spiraling all through her body.

_ Isla _ , she thought furiously.  _ Think of Isla _ . 

Once her feet were flat on the ground, Link handed her things back. “Follow me,” he said, with a mysterious twinkle in his eyes that sparked excitement like fire in Zelda’s stomach.

He led her behind the cottages, where a tiny cliff of rocks stopped them. “Think you can manage the climb, Your Highness?” he asked, and she swatted him.

Link stepped up the rocks with ease, and held a hand out to help her up. Zelda rolled her eyes, fighting against the smile pulling at her lips, but took his hand and allowed him to pull her up beside him.

The sight before her was like an image pulled directly from a daydream. Zelda gaped at the wide clearing, where a wild assortment of flowers and grasses bloomed, some glowing from the moon and some by magic. 

Link was watching her when she finally tore her gaze from the field, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “There’s a Fairy Fountain just east of here,” he said. “A bunch of little sprites end up enchanting the flowers. Technically, that makes them never-discovered species.”

Zelda didn’t know what to do first. She stared at him, then managed to say, “You mean to tell me you have had a field full of magical flowers hidden behind your childhood home and you never thought to mention it to me?”

He laughed, and suddenly Zelda was as drawn to him as she was to the sparkling dreamland before her. They were still holding hands, she noticed, and his skin was bare—bracer and glove-free—and warm against her own. 

“Link,” she said, in a softer voice. He watched her, eyes intent, a silent indicator that despite his silence, she had his full attention. “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand.

He kept quiet for a few heartbeats, and then he said, “We both needed a break.” The tips of his ears were a little red, she noticed, and fought another smile.

Zelda grinned at him, and his ears went darker. “I have so much to do,” she exclaimed then, releasing his hand and powering on the Sheikah Slate. “It’s completely interesting, actually; most of these flowers won’t register with the Slate because they’ve been magically altered, which is fine by me, since it likely means they have different properties than their original forms now.”

Link didn’t respond as she prattled on, but he watched her and listened as she explained each flower and its original uses, the enchantments that had been placed upon it, and anything else she could think up.

“Look!” she whispered, grabbing his sleeve. Floating over a blue nightshade a few feet away was a fairy, casting the land around it in ethereal pink light. “Fairies like that one have impressive regenerative qualities. Link, I must catch it.”

She crept up to it, keeping as quiet as she could manage. The fairy landed on a yellow flower, and Zelda watched in avid fascination as an enchantment sparkled out onto the petals. As the magic settled, Zelda pounced, closing her hands carefully around the creature.

Zelda held up her clasped hands to him, rising to her feet. “I caught it,” she said in wonderment. Link wandered closer, eyes on her hands and the gentle pink glow of the fairy from the cracks in her hands. “It won’t escape now,” she told him. “Fairies must stay with you once you manage to capture one.” She cast a grin his way. “It’s magic.”

“Regenerative qualities, you said?” he asked, standing a couple feet before her.

“The best there is,” she confirmed. “And you don’t even need to cook it.” Zelda glanced at him, mischief swirling in her chest. “If you’d like, we can test that theory.”

Link narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious, but Zelda didn’t give him a moment more to consider her next actions. She lunged at him, fairy braced in her hand, and knocked him into the tall grass.

“What, were you expecting me to need regeneration from that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Zelda pinned him beneath her, straddling his waist, and shoved the fairy into his face. “We’ll see whether you don’t need it once it’s done its work!”

He yelped, struggling to escape her grasp. “Zelda, I’m not eating a live fairy!” he squawked, batting her hands away from his face. “Next you’re going to force a puppy down my throat!”

“Puppies don’t have restorative properties!” she argued, and then the fairy flew out of her open hand. Zelda cursed, fumbling for it in the air before giving up. She sagged over Link, scowling.

“Huh,” he said. “You know, I really thought I heard you say they couldn’t escape once you caught them, but it really seems like—”

Zelda jerked forward, covering his hands with her mouth. “It was the  _ Slate _ ,” she hissed, and his eyes danced. “I was just telling you what the Slate told me—”

He faked a gasp. “Wait, so the Slate was wrong? Zelda, tell me it isn’t true! I need all the science, all the serene proof—”

Zelda collapsed with giggles, laughing more than she had in years. He joined her, his chest shaking with it. “Oh, Goddesses,” she breathed, once she managed to catch her breath. “We’re ridiculous, aren’t we?”

“Actually,” said Link, and his face was red with laughter, “ _ you _ tried to feed me a live fairy. I think that makes you the ridiculous one, Your Highness.”

She sniffed. “You’ll be thanking me when you come across one while fighting monsters and don’t have to worry about injury.”

“Not if I can’t catch it,” he retorted, and she could tell he was only arguing to annoy her.

Zelda sat up straighter, narrowing him with a stern glance where he lay in the grass. “Sir Link, I’m very sure this is against courtly etiquette,” she said primly.

He smirked at her. “You’re the one who tackled me to the ground.” 

The compromising reality of their position struck Zelda. She felt her cheeks flood with heat. And perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing through her blood, or the lightness in her chest, but she said, “As if you couldn’t just knock me off if you wanted to.”

Link’s grin faded so he was just lying on his back, staring up at Zelda with that unreadable look on his face. “Are you insinuating I  _ don’t _ want to, Your Highness?”

Heat rushed through her, tingling her stomach and then lower. The night wind drifted above them. Grass tickled Zelda’s ankles where the hem of her pants had ridden up. Link’s hair was strewn in the greenery, dark gold in the dim glow of the moon.

“Link,” she said quietly. The word fell heavy in the gentle silence of the field, shrouded by the fall of midnight. Zelda shifted, leaning forward on his lap before she was completely aware of what she was doing. He stayed still beneath her, but his eyes—so impossibly blue—followed each movement. 

Their noses brushed. Zelda braced her hands on his chest. “Link,” she whispered again, and she swore she could feel the tickle of his eyelashes when he looked away from her lips and to her eyes. She swallowed, struggling to string together anything coherent with him so close. “What about—what about Isla?”

He blinked. “Isla?” A crease formed between his brows. “You didn’t talk to my mother, did you?”

“What? No. But you must know. Isla loves you.”

Link looked away. “Zelda—”

Zelda’s face flushed. “No, I’m sorry—it’s okay. I’ll just—” She pushed herself off his chest, landing in a heap in the grass beside him.

“Wait.” His voice was low. Zelda froze, and Link moved closer to her. “Zelda,” he said, and kissed her.

It was a quick kiss, a soft, telling brush of the lips, just enough to set Zelda’s mind racing and her skin burning. Link cupped her cheek with a palm, pressing their foreheads together. “My mother is set on me marrying Isla,” he said flatly. “So I assumed you got that idea from her.”

Zelda couldn’t focus with him so close to her. “I. . . talked to Isla, actually.” She glanced down, where his free hand had tangled with her own. “It is clear how she feels about you.”

He sighed. “I wish she didn’t.” He swallowed, leaning out of her space. “I love her, but not—not like that. I don’t want to. . . .”

“You don’t want to break her heart,” Zelda finished, tilting her head. She smiled sadly. “With any love comes a chance at heartbreak, Link, and she must have been willing to take that risk.”

Link grabbed her hands, pulling her closer to him. “I keep letting people down,” he whispered, and Zelda brushed her lips against the side of his neck. He tilted his head back, and she moved, half in his lap. Link sighed again, this time an exhale of something like pleasure.

“You’re not letting anyone down,” she said firmly, and kissed his cheek, then down his jaw and back to his neck. “You’re doing more than anyone else in this whole kingdom.”

He hummed, and Zelda pushed him gently back onto the grass. She kissed him again, firmly and longer this time, lacing her fingers into his hair and relishing the little sounds he made against her mouth. 

Link rolled over, pinning Zelda to the ground so she could feel every seam of his tunic, every line of muscle beneath his clothing. He licked into her mouth, growing more heated by the second, and Zelda pulled at the collar of his tunic, humming impatiently.

“Zelda,” he breathed, undoing his belt and tossing it to the side. Zelda straddled him, tugging off the tunic. Adrenaline sang its alluring tunes in her ears, silencing any common sense. She ran her hands down his chest, brushing the tips of her fingers over the ridges of his muscles, the puffy scars. A warrior’s body.

He arched against her when she reached the waistband of his pants, kissing her neck and collarbone. Zelda pulled her shirt over her head, all thoughts of their surroundings gone from her mind. Link’s eyes were dark with something new and enchanting, something that made her pull his head back to hers and kiss him harder than before, made her moan at the feel of his skin against her own.

Zelda hooked her legs around his waist, toes curling. He muffled a noise into her lips, dragging his mouth down her chin and to the top of her chest. Zelda gasped, gripping his hair tight in her hands, tilting her head back into the grass as he traveled dangerously lower and lower— 

“Oh, Hylia,” whimpered a familiar voice from somewhere to their left, and both Link and Zelda jerked away as if the other was on fire.

Standing at the top of the rocky ledge were none other than Link’s mother and Isla. Zelda felt the blood leave her face in one sharp exhale. Isla looked as though she’d been yanked from a pool of icy water, mouth open and eyes wide with shock and hurt. Marna’s eyebrows had reached her hairline and her arms were crossed.

Zelda wrenched her shirt back on with the little dignity she had left, face burning. Slowly, she rose to her feet, throat dry. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“We—We couldn’t find the princess,” said Isla at last, voice faint. “Marna—she suggested I bring her an extra pillow, and when I went to give it to her—” She swallowed visibly. “Well, she wasn’t there. I just thought—”

Isla looked from Marna to Link and Zelda, eyes desperate and frantic, searching for an answer no one seemed to have. “Sorry,” she said, and stared at her feet. Even from a few paces away, Zelda knew she was holding back tears.

“Isla—” Link began, and Zelda jumped. She’d nearly forgotten he was behind her. He too had dressed, but his hair was rumpled— _ by her hands _ —and strewn with grass. His mouth was red, but Zelda tried very hard not to think about that.

“No,” said Isla, voice sharp. She took a deep breath, hands in fists by her sides. “No. You don’t—you don’t have to apologize, or—or explain yourself. I get it.” She looked up, meeting Link’s eyes. “I knew. I knew, and I fooled myself into thinking that maybe you felt—” She clenched her jaw. “But you didn’t, not really, and I knew that. It’s my fault.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Zelda said softly, and meeting the other girl’s eyes hurt. “We shouldn’t have—”

“Why?” demanded Isla. “Why shouldn’t you have? You have every right to kiss and talk and—and do anything you want. You spent every second together. You were brought together by  _ destiny _ . It makes perfect sense. It was me, princess. I deluded myself.”

Destiny was a word that plagued every tiny, inching step of Zelda’s life. Just once, she wished she could have something that was hers and nothing else’s. She looked at Link.

He was watching Isla, face stiff and sad in the white light of the stars. “I should have talked to you,” he said. “I knew what you wanted, and I knew I couldn’t be that for you, but I was too afraid to hurt our friendship. I’m sorry, Isla.”

Isla’s face softened. “I know,” she said. “I will be okay. I only want your happiness.”

From beside her, Marna said, “It’s all we’ve ever wanted.”

“I know that,” Link told them. “I love you for it, and for a thousand other things.” He paused. “I’m sorry we left in the middle of the night. We should have said something.”

“I would say so,” said Marna, in that scolding, motherly voice of hers. “We thought you’d been carried off by a wild band of moblins.” She turned her face on Zelda, who steeled herself for the anger, rightful as it was. “But I don’t blame you for wanting a night of freedom,” Marna said. “You’re both still so young to have so much on your shoulders.”

Zelda blinked. She said, “You—you don’t—”

Marna stepped forwards, and her smile was sad. “Oh, child,” she said. “Everyone expects you to be so grown up, don’t they?” She shook her head. “You may have been born a princess, but you are still just a girl, and girls should be allowed to live as they wish—to make mistakes as you wish.” She took Zelda’s hands in her own. “I like you. I doubt there will be a better queen, when the time is right, but for now, live. You make my son happy.”

Zelda flushed all the way down to her toes. “I hardly deserve such kindness,” she said, eyes stinging. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Marna lightly, releasing Zelda’s hands. “You have nothing to thank me for. Now, perhaps you and Link should start heading back to the village and get some sleep before dawn.” She narrowed them both with a look of suspicion. “That is not a suggestion.”

Zelda smiled, filled with some inexplicable longing, some age-old sadness. She realized she missed her own mother, missed her warm smiles and her calloused hands.

Marna and Isla turned and began walking to the village. Link grabbed her hand, squeezing tight. Together, they left the flower field.

* * *

Years later, Zelda will remember that moment.

She will lie awake in a little bed in a village that she doesn’t yet know, and she will remember so he can too. Time has passed—more time than she could ever count on her fingers—but still Link and Zelda find each other, even when their parents are all gone. Even when enough generations have passed that their friends are recognized not by face but by name.

Things will have changed. Once, Zelda believed happiness was not something she could obtain without stability, without some sharp guarantee of success, but she’s come to discover that few things in life can ever truly be predicted. She’s come to value the unpredictable.

Hateno Village is quiet at night, save for the distant howls of wolves and the rustle of wind. She will know this quiet by heart—know it as well as she knows herself.

Once, destiny dragged her behind it by a collar made of steel, but no longer. Destiny, she will tell Link one night, as they lay in bedrolls under the stars with nothing but the rush of a waterfall to keep them company, is not something decided for you. 

It is made.

**Author's Note:**

> if, by some miraculous chance, you did enjoy this, feel free to leave a review. they keep me breathing/writing. also, check out my other story!!! aka my 18k summary of zelda's whole life. mostly. whew. (self-promo is okay if it's on my own fic right??? ;) ) thank you all. i love and appreciate you.


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